


The Prisoner

by orphan_account



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Angst, Guard!Alec, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Malec AU, Mentions of Rape, Prison, dark!fic, implied rape, prisoner!Magnus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:37:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6527794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Alec becomes uncertain as to whom the real prisoner is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prisoner

Alec was sure he had known who he was when he woke up that morning. But looking back on it now, that couldn’t have been right, as then it would have taken more than a few short conversations with a criminal to turn his entire life inside-out.

The night before, Alec had been assigned a new occupation as a prison guard, with no idea as to how long he’d be stuck with the job- days or years, he didn’t know. As a soldier, first and foremost, he didn’t see why he wasn’t kept on the front lines where trained fighters were needed the most. However, as a Lightwood, he knew exactly why it was he who was now in the possession of one of the only keys that could open the cell of the single-most dangerous man in the entire facility. The infamous Magnus Bane, notoriously cunning, was one of the most powerful warlocks alive, and after his several almost-successful escape-attempts from the Shadowhunter’s equally infamous high-security prison, the Nephilim had now put him under the strictest surveillance possible, and left the warlock with only one way to fend for himself: with his own words. And if anyone could be trusted to be immune to mind-tricks and the sort, it was the reliable, logical, straightforward-thinking eldest son of one of Alicante’s most respected families.

Alec was proud to be trusted by the higher authorities, but even so, he found little pride in babysitting a criminal, no matter how much of a threat Magnus Bane was to the Shadowhunter cause, so they’d been told. All Alec knew was that he’d be the only one able to unlock the cell, and he’d be the only one going into the cell, and he’d be the only one to feed, dress and communicate with the criminal in any way besides the daily “interrogations” the prisoner would receive during their stay in Alicante’s prison.

The first time Alec laid eyes on the prisoner- or rather, his prisoner- he had been shocked, and perhaps a little disturbed, at what he found. This prisoner, unlike the other inmates, was in solitary confinement. Four white walls pressed in on its inhabitant who was chained to the wall with the door opposite, arms hanging from chains from the ceiling. His legs were shackled to floor by his ankles, preventing him from so much as stretching out his legs. The chains kept his arms at a distance from each other, while his body was slumped in a crooked sitting position on the floor with his head bowed. He looked like a carcass hanging in a butcher’s storeroom, except that he was far from being dead, as Alec was about to discover.

As he stepped into the cell, with no idea what to expect, he strode towards the prisoner, food in one hand and the key clenched in the other. “Mr. Bane,” he announced when the prisoner didn’t lift his head or show any signs of recognition that someone had entered the cell. A few moments passed, and the prisoner hadn’t moved. Alec dragged in a long breath. “Excuse me, Mr. Ba -”

His voice faltered. The warlock was now looking up at him, not with the eyes of an animal driven feral, as was such the state of the rest of him with his prison clothes and long, ragged hair, but with the calculating, curious eyes of a man- No, not a man. Something similar, but at the same time distinctly feline and clearly magical in origin. His eyes were, to Alec, strange; but they also caused him to momentarily forget why he was there in the first place.

The warlock cleared his throat, his deep, amber eyes holding Alec’s in a bewitching stare. “Can I help you?” he said somewhat causally, his cheerful tone completely contradicting what was before Alec’s eyes.

Alec stared back unflinchingly as he said, “You must eat.” He held up the plate in indication. Bread, cheese, and a glass of water.

Magnus’ eyes flickered down to the food, then to the key in Alec’s other hand, and then back up to his face. “Am I correct in assuming that you’ll be the only person bringing my meals…?” he asked slowly.

The Shadowhunter hesitated. Should he really be conversing with a prisoner? Regardless, he answered Magnus with a shallow shrug of his shoulders and said, “Among other things, yes. You will also be taken to the bathroom every morning, and every four days you’ll be allowed to make use of the showers. And I will be escorting you.”

The widest, brightest and most baffling grin Alec had ever seen suddenly broke out across the warlock’s face as he chuckled as if at a pleasant memory. Alec’s already stern expression hardened further, but he said nothing.

Magnus shook his head fondly, looking away from Alec for the first time since he had laid eyes on him. “They’re making you babysit me? Wow. I really must have ruffled their feathers,” he said to himself. He then turned back to Alec, his grin now vanished, replaced with an expression that, surprisingly, showed sympathy, or else some other form of mutual understanding. “No doubt you want to be here just as much as I do,” he said solemnly.

Alec blinked. “Excuse me?”

The prisoner smiled wryly. “I know a warrior when I see one. And this,” he said, looking round the cramped cell, “is hardly the front-line, is it.”

He then sat up straight, using the chains attached to his wrists as leverage to pull himself into an upright position. The previous grin returned in the blink of an eye. “Not that I’m complaining, of course. I certainly wouldn’t mind seeing someone like you every morning, noon and night,” he practically drawled, dropping a casual wink at Alec as he did so.

Alec’s expression didn’t change, except for the red tinge of mortification that flushed across his cheeks, succeeding only in making Magnus laugh even more. The throwing back of his head as he let out a ringing laugh sent a wave of dread over Alec. He had expected the warlock to be sly and cunning. He had been expecting someone nasty, snappy, and vile, the typical characteristics of any Downworlder held in captivity by the Shadowhunters. But not someone handsome, well-spoken, and kind of charming as well.

In response, Alec stayed as un-charming as possible by simply saying, “You need to eat,” in the most emotionless, disjointed voice he could conjure.

Before the prisoner could reply, Alec was crouched beside him in an instant. He set the plate beside Magnus’ feet and took the bread roll in one hand, holding it up before Magnus’ face. The warlock recoiled at the sudden movement, his head back against the wall. He eyed the bread with distaste, and looked back to Alec. “Do I… have to eat from your hand?”

Alec sighed. “You don’t have to eat at all.”

Magnus blinked, clearly thinking over his options in his head. It didn’t take long. It wasn’t as if he had many options; eat the food, or starve. He finally sighed and leaned, reluctantly, towards where Alec was holding the bread. “You had better have washed your hands,” he threatened, before taking a slow, deliberate bite out of the bread.

All the while, as the prisoner ate in silence, Alec’s heart, for not reason apparent to him at the time, began hammering against the inside of his ribcage, each thump steadily becoming more and more forceful, as if it were anticipating something.

When Magnus took the last mouthful of bread, his lips and tongue met briefly with Alec’s fingers. The guard gulped, jerking his empty hand away and discreetly wiping it on his thigh. Quickly, before Magnus could notice anything, he reached for the glass of water and held that up in place of the bread. Magnus guzzled down the water almost instantly, nearly half of it spilling down his front. Who knew when the last time he’d had something to eat or drink was.

Alec took the glass and the plate and stood up. He wanted to get out of there. But of course the warlock had to have the last word. “Pay my compliments to the chef,” he said, an almost angry bitter undertone to his voice "Must have taken quite some skill to make bread as dense and as tasteless as that-“

“We all have to eat that,” Alec interrupted abruptly. He turned and looked down at Magnus accusingly. “That’s our food you’re eating.”

Magnus was un-swayed. “Well, I suppose that explains why you Nephilim are all so grumpy.” He smiled sourly. “It’s the indigestion.”

Alec clenched his teeth and said nothing. He turned on his heel and left.

...

Consequently, Alec had been a bad mood for the rest of the day. He didn’t know why; he had been warned, he had expected the warlock to be like that, constantly on the defense, searching for something to use to his advantage. Perhaps it had been the warlock’s sudden changes in mood that threw Alec off. Or maybe it was the way he had spoken to Alec, as if he knew him, as if he had immediately classed Alec as being a common Shadowhunter, a soldier and nothing more. Or was it what Magnus had said: No doubt you want to be here just as much as I do. What did that even mean? The words played over and over in Alec’s mind as he tried to make sense of them, as he fought to deny them. How could he know? Was it that obvious?

Stop it, Alec scolded himself. Now you are doing exactly what that Downworlder wants you to do. If you keep thinking like that, you’ll play right into his hands. This is why you were picked for this. It’s a test. A test only the strongest-willed can pass.

Though, in all honesty, it wasn’t clear whether it was Alec who was telling himself that, or whether echoes of the words of the Clave had managed to eat into his conscience. But it didn’t really matter. Either way, Alec would not allow the warlock to play with him, if not for the Clave’s sake then for his own.

...

The second time he visited Magnus was that night, twelve hours after their first encounter. Alec entered, bringing a stony silence with him, expecting the prisoner to be as talkative as the first time. But Magnus was too hungry and too thirsty to talk or even notice the guard’s silence. He simply waited in anticipation for the food and drink and then promptly consumed every last crumb and drop without so much as glancing up at Alec until he was done.

“You know what I miss?” Magnus said, sounding out-of-breath from eating and drinking so fast, as Alec picked the cup and plate up from the floor.

Alec hesitated. It had been his intention to ignore Magnus completely, but it seemed that he had already lost the heart to do just that. “What?” he eventually said.

“I miss my cat,” Magnus answered, his voice flat and empty as if his thoughts were elsewhere. “And chocolate. I’d kill for some chocolate right now.”

Magnus breathed out slowly through his nose, his eyes fluttering shut and his head resting against the wall. His arms hung limply from the chains. It was impossible to tell whether he was asleep or not.

Alec turned and left.

...

The third time he visited the prisoner was early the next morning. Magnus was unconscious, but as soon as Alec unlocked the cuffs and his limp arms fell to his sides, blue sparks instantly began to crackle from his fingertips as if the magic was stretching its legs. But before anything significant could happen, Alec crudely twisted the warlock’s arms behind his back and locked his wrists in place with another pair of magic-suppressant cuffs.

Magnus merely grunted in protest as he was rudely awakened, and allowed himself to be dragged to his feet. He stumbled out the door and was guided down endless corridors by Alec’s hand resting threateningly on his shoulder.

Alec knew every inch of the prison as if it truly were his own home, and so the fifteen minute trek flew past, despite the wordless awkwardness between them, the empty hallways filled with nothing but two pairs of echoing footsteps, and despite the eerie silence that howled throughout the entire prison as every other guard or prisoner still slept. It would be almost an hour before the place flooded with noise again.

Then they reached their destination: the inmate’s empty communal bathroom. It was huge and white. Alec removed the cuffs as soon as they were inside. “The walls are all magic-proofed,” he stated as Magnus rubbed his sore wrists. “So don’t… do anything.”

Magnus seemed to be too exhausted to respond. He just stared at the guard with tired, worn eyes. Green, amber, golden eyes. Cat’s eyes. Downworlder eyes.

“You have five minutes,” Alec said, slipping out of the bathroom and closing the door behind him to give the prisoner some privacy.

Alec went back inside precisely five minutes later to find Magnus at the sinks, splashing his face with cold water. “We need to leave now,” the guard called out impatiently.

The warlock stared at his own reflection in the mirror above the sinks for a few moments, before wordlessly returning to Alec. He even turned around and held out his own wrists for being cuffed. This didn’t reassure Alec. If anything, it made him even more suspicious.

...

The same thing happened the next morning, followed by the usual visits bringing bread and water. The morning after that, however, was different. Alec had to wake up slightly earlier as the journey to the bathroom would be followed by one of the bi-weekly trips to the shower room. Under his arm Alec carried a second set of clothes, identical to the ones Magnus had been wearing for the past few days, and a bar of soap. He briefly wondered why the prisoner was given access to soap, a non-essential luxury, while the people in charge couldn’t be arsed to give him decent food every once in a while.

Alec unlocked the cuffs once they stepped into the shower room, which was just as big and just as white as the rest of the prison. There were no cubicles, just a long row of shower-heads. He handed the folded clothes and the soap to Magnus, who then made his way across the room to the shower on the end, the furthest from the door and thus as far from Alec as physically possible. Alec’s eyes followed every move the warlock made.

“Do you mind?” Magnus called out as he pulled the old T-shirt over his head. Alec tried his best to keep his eyes on the prisoner’s face. “Not that I mind showing you my naked body,” he then said after a few moments of silence, “But I would appreciate a little privacy.”

The guard had strict orders not too let the prisoner out of his sight, especially without the cuffs binding his hands and his magic. However, as soon as Magnus slowly and deliberately hooked his fingers into the top of his pants, about to push them down, Alec turned around , not just at Magnus’ request but also to hide the blush rising in his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Magnus said, exasperated.

Alec folded his arms tightly over his chest.

After a couple of seconds, water started flowing. “Urgh, it’s freezing!” Magnus exclaimed indignantly. “It always used to be warm!”

Even though it wasn’t a question, Alec answered with, “the hot water turns on at eight.”

“And what time is it now?”

He glanced down at his watch. “Six fifteen.”

“What?!” Magnus exclaimed in mock horror. “I didn’t know that time even existed!”

Alec bit his lip to suppress a smile. “The rest of the inmates will be woken up at half-past. You have three minutes to shower.”

He gave Magnus five.

...

On the trip back to the cell, Alec was staring at the water-droplets hanging from the tips of Magnus’ shoulder-length hair when Magnus suddenly piped up, “Does anyone know you’re gay?”

The Shadowhunter stiffened and stopped in his tracks. Magnus turned his head to look back at him, a glint of something cunning in his eyes. “What,” Alec demanded, trying his best to prevent shock and fear from showing on his face.

“Does anyone know you’re ga-”

Before he could stop himself, Alec’s hand shot out, his palm smothering Magnus’ words back into his mouth. “Keep your voice down,” he growled as he gave Magnus’ shoulder a short, violent shove that sent him stumbling forwards, only just managing to regain his balance before Alec gave him another shove and gruffly ordered him to “keep moving.”

A couple of tense, silent minutes passed before Magnus said, “I’ll take that as a no, then.”

“I’m not gay,” Alec stated, pure and simple.

Magnus snorted. “Could’ve fooled me. Do you really think-”

“I am not gay,” the Shadowhunter reiterated tersely.

“You sure?” the warlock asked. “I’d be willing to check for you if-”

“We’re here.” And indeed they had arrived at the cell. They went through the well-practiced routine of unshackling Magnus’ wrists and then re-shackling them to the wall. Once that was over, Alec brusquely exited the room, but Magnus’ voice called out to him just as he was closing the door.

“You know, there aren’t many things that make me sad, Alexander.” Alec immediately tensed at the use of his full name. “I’m just sad to say that you are one of them.”

Alec’s eyes narrowed as he took in Magnus’ words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded. “You don’t know me.”

“Better than you know yourself, clearly,” the warlock shot back at him, his golden eyes steely and vibrant as they looked up at Alec, wisdom and knowledge shining through them like a fire had suddenly been lit inside him, and for the first time since they were first acquainted, Alec could truly feel Magnus’ age and power; he was little more boy in the presence of this centuries-old man- no, not a man, more a demon than a man.

The guard seethed. Even without his magic, Magnus had enough power over him to put Alec out of control. Magnus had pin-pointed the one thing that Alec clung to above all else: control. Or rather, the illusion of being in control. But around Magnus- even with the key to his chains, even having to hand-feed him barely enough to keep him alive- Alec was undeniably and totally out of control. And at that very moment in time, as he looked down on a man armed with only his words, Alec felt so, uncontrollably angry.

“You don’t know me,” Alec repeated. “You don’t know one single-”

“You are a terribly real thing in a terribly fake world,” Magnus continued, pity annoyingly evident in his voice. “And that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain.” And he gave the guard a look of such sympathy, such honesty, a look Alec was sure he’d never seen before.

Alec blinked. “You don’t know me.” And then he left.

...

Alec learned his lesson and continued to ignore Magnus after that. The warlock would often try to start another conversation, and once he even dared to bring up the topic of Alec’s sexuality again, but to no avail. If the Shadowhunter had been guarded before, now he seemed to have built a two-meter-thick brick wall right the way around himself. Perhaps it was Alec’s imagination, but Magnus seemed to be disappointed because of this. Every morning he would enter the cell, and Magnus would be awake and waiting for him, watching him carefully as if he were waiting for something to happen, for Alec to say something. Nothing did happen, of course.

This silent routine continued for the next few days, but was then interrupted by the news that Magnus was to be taken to be interrogated one afternoon. Alec was more shocked that he assumed he’d be. What happened in the interrogation room usually directed what was to come next: if Magnus chose to cooperate and give up information, he’d live; if not, then he’d die. And Alec hardly believed that Magnus would go for the first option.

And so on the morning of the interrogation, Alec brought Magnus what could possibly be his last meal, which Magnus, of course, knew nothing about. Alec couldn’t tell whether he felt sorry for him, or whether he just felt bad in general about the situation. Whatever emotions were swirling within him just turned into a sickening turmoil in the pit of his stomach.

Alec honestly couldn’t tell what was worse: wanting Magnus to die or wanting him to live.

...

It took Alec almost thirty minutes to make the decision to give up the last of his chocolate rations for Magnus’ possibly-last meal. It wasn’t that he didn’t want Magnus to have the chocolate. In fact, according to what Magnus had said earlier that week, he would definitely appreciate it more than Alec. Alec didn’t know why they had chocolate rations, especially when they didn’t even have adequate hot-water rations. The issue was that if Alec was caught, what would he say? How would he come up with an excuse?

He didn’t get caught as there was no one around that lunch-break. And when he arrived at the cell, instead of feeding Magnus by hand, he unlocked one of his wrists and pushed the plate along the floor so that Magnus could reach them.

The warlock had no idea what was about to happen to him, but when he saw the chocolate, he glanced up at Alec with an expression not of gratitude, but of concern, as if somehow he had figured that this may be the last time he’d see the guard. Alec couldn’t bare to meet his eyes for fear of revealing the rest of the truth, or perhaps for fear of Magnus seeing how conflicted Alec was at the prospect of seeing the back of him.

“What’s this?” Magnus asked, picking up the small bar of chocolate between his fingers, a frown audible in his hoarse voice.

Alec swallowed and considered sticking to the silent treatment. But he couldn’t. He cleared his throat and said, “You mentioned before that you, uh, miss chocolate. And your cat. But I obviously couldn’t get your cat, so…” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other nervously and still refused to look Magnus in the eye.

“What’s going on?” Magnus demanded, not swayed in the slightest by Alec’s odd behavior. Alec should have known Magnus wouldn’t pass it off as an act of kindness, which it wasn’t. It was an act of pity, if anything.

Anyhow, Alec didn’t see the point in lying. “Once you’ve eaten, I will be taking you to the interrogation room,” he answered, barely masking the reluctance in his voice.

Magnus gave him a cautious look, watching for any signs of dishonesty, and, presumably, he found none. His expression fell into a solemn one as he seemed to understand the nature of the situation. “Oh,” was all his said, and took a small bite out of the chocolate.

When he’d finished eating, Alec lead him up to the interrogation room and handed him over to the two guards waiting for them with a non and a formal “comrades” to them accompanied with a nod of his head. The guards nodded back.

Alec could feel the eyes of the warlock burning into his back as his walked away. Just as he was about to turn a corner, he glanced back to where the guards were stood. For what purpose, he didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. Magnus was already gone.

...

Four agonising hours later, Alec received a fire-message ordering him to take the prisoner back to his cell. A giddy and unexpected sense of relief flooded through him and he immediately burst from his living quarters and practically ran all the way back to the interrogation room, only to find that his relief was short-lived. Dread drowned out the hope as soon as he saw the guards outside the interrogation room. Both of them were wearing a smirk that wasn’t there before, and once they caught sight of Alec, they turned and walked in the opposite direction without acknowledging their senior. It was as if they were school boys not wanting to be caught. But what was it they had done?

He found Magnus sitting on the floor in the empty interrogation room, looking thoroughly disheveled. It took Alec a moment to realise that he didn’t have cuffs on, and then another moment to see why: Magnus was in no state to stand up, let alone go anywhere. He was panting hard, and Alec could see beads of sweat hanging from his ragged hair. He was sitting on the floor with his back to the wall, hugging his knees to himself and hiding his face in the material of the prison pants. He was shaking all over, almost like a traumatised animal.

Alec inhaled slowly as he took in the image before him, eyes wide and too shocked to decide what to do next. What he eventually did do was cross the room and crouch beside Magnus and when he spoke, he did it with the gentlest voice possible, perhaps intended for Magnus, perhaps just for himself. “What in hell happened?” he breathed.

He couldn’t tell if Magnus heard or not, but either way there was no response.

“Magnus,” he said. “What happened?”

When the warlock raised his head, Alec was taken aback. It wasn’t suffering, or grief, or shock that was causing him to tremble. It was anger. Magnus’ eyes had dilated so that just a slither of his irises were visible behind the blackness of his pupils. His eyes didn’t meet Alec’s. They only stared at the floor.

“What?” Alec asked, panic creeping into his usually subdued voice. “What? Who was it? What did they do?”

Magnus continued heaving in breaths as he shook his head, an acidic smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Tell me. Please tell me. Who was it?” Alec urged.

Magnus’ eyelids slid closed. “I didn’t tell them anything.” He spat the words out as if they were grains of sand in his mouth.

“And then?” When Magnus didn’t reply, he said, “Look. If you tell me who it was, or describe them to me, I could try to…” His voice faltered. What could he really do about it? He had no authority in this prison. On the battlefield, yes, but here he was almost as helpless as Magnus.

“The guards,” Magnus said simply, his voice avoid of emotion.

Alec was silent for a moment. Then he gently said, “Magnus, what did they do? Did they threaten you, or harm you?”

Chances were, Alec thought through in his head, that the guards would either beat Magnus up, or use some kind of angelic magic to torture him. But there were no visible signs of bruising nor could Alec sense that any kind of magic was as play save the unusual magic suppressants in the walls of the room, leaving Magnus powerless.

Magnus just clenched his jaw and stayed silent.

It was obvious his mind was somewhere else, so Alec decided to leave it be. Maybe he would ask him later, not that Alec had any real right to know anyway. “Come on. We should get back,” he said as he stood and offered a hand to Magnus who simply looked at the outstretched hand for a few seconds, and then took it. He was barely able to stand when he was pulled to his feet and had to lean on Alec’s shoulder a little to keep his balance. Alec didn’t put the cuffs back on, seeing that there no need for them.

As he lead Magnus to the exit, he could feel him limping heavily, wincing with each step he took. He even bit his bottom lip to prevent himself from crying out. To help the process along, Alec pulled one of Magnus’ arms so that it was slung over his neck, and as he did so he looked down to the floor and something caught his eye: blood was running down one of Magnus’ legs. It was only a thin rivulet, but it was blood none the less. Alec’s mind reeled; where did the blood come from? The clothes didn’t seem to have soaked up any of the blood, which they certainly would have done if a cut or a wound was the source of the injury. But there were no obvious wounds, only bruising around Magnus’ wrists from the shackles he usually wore and some discolouring around his neck, which must mean…

Alec paled as all the pieces fell into place. “Oh Magnus,” he breathed shakily. He also felt angry, with everything and everyone, primarily with himself, but he mainly felt sick like he was going to throw-up any moment. “I am so sorry…”

“I know,” Magnus replied instantly, without looking up.

They made their way along the empty corridors in silence.

...

Instead of the cell, Alec lead Magnus to the showers, firstly because it was the least Alec could do given the circumstances, but also because he was almost certain he wouldn’t be able to carry Magnus the whole way back to his cell with the state they both were in. When they reached the showers, Magnus thanked Alec, but the guard didn’t reply. He couldn’t think straight, not with the torrent of conflicting thoughts rendering him powerless in his mental struggle.

He wanted to kill the guards. He wanted to kill the interrogators. He wanted to kill the faceless Shadowhunters that ran the prison. These blasphemous thoughts, however, weren’t what concerned him most. The prospect that scared him above all was whether he would have reacted the same way if it hadn’t been Magnus. Would he feel the need to protect any Downworlder in that situation? In all honesty, Alec couldn’t tell what was worse: sympathising with Downworlders or sympathising with Magnus only. Had Magnus cast a spell over him somehow? Had Alec gone mad? Were these feelings real or were they fake?

Well they felt real, and that was all that powered Alec forward in that moment. He couldn’t let the anger quivering in his bones drive him to abandon Magnus in order to seek reconciliation, because the bitter truth was that there would be no putting the atrocity right. Magnus had no rights. And what would happen to Alec if he was seen defending an enemy? His reputation as a trustworthy warrior would vanish, along with the power he used to protect his family. And he simply couldn’t choose Magnus over his family, no matter how much one man has to suffer.

But, Alec decided, he’d do all that he possibly could do for Magnus. He couldn’t just stand by and do nothing, even if nothing was all that he could do.

...

“You can, um, get unchanged and have a shower,” Alec said when they entered the empty shower room. “I’ll just be in the storeroom to get you some clean clothes and a towel and, er, soap.”

Magnus nodded as he allowed himself to be lead to the nearest shower-head where he could prop himself up against the wall.

Alec was reluctant to leave him, even for a few minutes. But he left regardless to retrieve the clothes and a towel, and when he returned it was to find Magnus on the floor, naked, in the same position Alec had found him in the interrogation room. The shower was on, but Magnus was completely dry and sitting outside the spray.

Concern flooded Alec’s instincts. “Are you-”

“I fell,” the warlock said quickly, pulling his arms even tighter around his legs, hugging them against his chest.

Alec paused, and said “oh,” fiddling awkwardly with the pile of material in his arms as he did so. After a few seconds, he made his way back to Magnus and helped him to his feet. Alec turned his head and diverted his eyes for Magnus’ privacy, but not before he caught sight of the angry purple bruising that tainted the otherwise smooth skin of his torso. Magnus was far paler than his usual malnourished hue, accept for the bruised areas around his lower-back and thighs.

“Can you stand?” Alec asked, his head still turned away.

“I don’t know. I… I don’t think so,” the warlock muttered. He experimented by shifting his weight from leaning against Alec to his own two feet, but his legs quivered as he did.

When standing by himself didn’t seem to work, Alec took a firmer hold of Magnus’ elbows and propped him up by his forearms. “Can you shower like this?” Alec asked tentatively.

“Um, yeah,” was the response.

So Alec moved them under the warm spray, hardly noticing the water splashing against his uniform. What he did notice, however, was the blood that was carried across the floor and towards the drain, startlingly crimson against the bright white tiles.

“By the Angel,” Alec whispered. “I am so sorry, Magnus.”

“You know, I don’t actually blame you for it,” the warlock said sincerely. “It wasn’t your fault I was- raped by those guards.”

Alec winced as his chest clenched in pain at Magnus’ almost casual use of the word. He stiffly said, “Well you’ve got to blame someone.”

Magnus thought for a moment. “Then I blame God.”

Alec frowned. “You believe in God?”

The warlock snorted. “God, no.”

“Then why…”

“Because all this is circumstance. A victim of circumstance is what I am, what we all are. Nothing more. And that’s what God is. God is circumstance.” There was a distance to his voice, but Alec could sense the simple bitterness beneath it.

“That’s… sad,” Alec eventually said. “I prefer to think we make our own luck.”

“If that were the case, I’d have only myself to blame.”

“Or you could just blame the guards, seeing as, you know, it was their fault,” he pointed out, his tone somewhat angrier.

Magnus sighed. “What good’s blaming someone anyway?” he said tiredly, then added, “Could you pass the soap, please.”

Alec released one of Magnus’ elbows and bent down to pick up the bar of soap from the floor. Magnus swayed momentarily and almost fell against Alec’s chest before Alec steadied him again. When he handed the bar to Magnus, their eyes met briefly, and Magnus was wincing in pain. “You okay?”

Magnus practically glared up at him. “Please. Stop asking if I’m okay.” He took the soap in one hand and used the other to steady himself against Alec.

“But I’ve got to say something,” Alec protested. “I just… I wish I could help you. I wish I could get you out of here. But I’ve got family. I’ve got a younger sister and a younger brother, and a parabatai, and if I help y-”

“Alexander,” Magnus interrupted sternly. “I understand. I know. And I did say before that I didn’t blame you for any of this.”

Alec couldn’t bring himself to look Magnus in the eye. Even though he believed what Magnus said about not blaming him, Alec still blamed himself for not being brave enough to stand up for this man. Instead, Alec stared at the floor, pink with Magnus’ blood, gradually thinning and washing away.

“Besides,” Magnus added gently. “You have already helped me.”

“How,” Alec said with a disbelieving tone.

“You give me something to look forward to.”

Alec looked up and raised an eyebrow. “You look forward to seeing me?” Alec knew that he had done nothing but treat Magnus like an animal. He had been spiteful. He had behaved like a child. Why on earth would Magnus look forward to seeing a person like that?

“I like seeing you because you remind me that a mental prison is just as unforgiving as a physical one.”

Alec didn’t reply, probably because there was nothing to be said. He and Magnus had finally reached a mutual understanding that perhaps there would be no way out of their prisons of body and mind, and that perhaps there was nothing left for them in this world except each other.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment telling me why you did/didn't like it! You can find my tumblr @idancewiththedevil666


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